Knowledge (and/or Greed)

Tell me, fine sir, can you spare
me a couple grand or two? You see
I wanted this thing called knowledge,
and with it came ramen,
and silk water, a mother deep inside,
only a pre-frat party memory.
With it came screaming nights
of questions and the memory
of how it felt to hold your dad’s wallet
(metaphorically of course, a spoiled
brat stays a spoiled brat)
and that awkward pain you feel asking
now after all these years.
 
Somehow I now need to find a golden
rainbow fed pot,
(I have a way with leprechauns)
though finding a way for
Bank of America
to accept pieces of gold that
never have been touched
by Greed’s hands
is something my humble hands
simply can’t do.
 
And then you sit back
and realize how much you really
despise money
(even if that glass of white wine made
dinner so much better that night)
and how many starving nights
it was the gas to get home
or a entrée from the dollar menu.

And the sinking realization that I owe
Knowledge more money than I’ve seen,
and it pales in comparison to
2 mcdoubles and a sweet tea.
I lose myself in the decadence that
no Elven chef with ever know
when suddenly my card is being declined
at the parking deck after my 10pm class.

Now those quarters run
the machine of mankind
( Knowledge’s best invention)
and someday I’ve supposed to
be a father myself,
choosing life or seeing your child hungry.
But that is a lot of politics and social evolutions
in the future.
 
Right now it’s calling my friend
to see if I can pass out there
(an “I’ll buy you dinner”
both of you understand is polite
even if not followed through with).
And under the delicious delusion of
middle school slumber parties
you eat ramen and pass out.